Time Passages
by Hot Magnolias
Summary: Kirsa is a scholar of literature and history, but she is also obsessed with a certain king that has been dead for centuries. When her "mad scientist" uncle gives her a special gift, Kirsa finds herself face to face with her obsession. (Picture Tom Hiddleston of Henry V in Hollow Crown) Obviously, I am not Shakeys and do not own or claim to own anything but my OC.
1. Chapter 1 - Lost in Time

Time Passages

Henry rode quickly through the forest. It was cold. Perhaps it was imprudent of him to go out alone today, but he had to get away from court. It appeared that he had a long way to go and darkness would soon be upon him.

"Damned smithy! He took his time with your shoes," he exclaimed irritated to his horse.

Just as he rounded an escarpment, his horse reared nearly knocking him to the ground.

"Whoa! Steady boy," he whispered to his horse as he patted his neck.

He then saw the reason for his horse's hesitation. Lying upon the ground was a girl. Henry dismounted the horse and edged him a safe distance from the girl.

"Clever boy," he stated and harnessed him to a nearby tree.

Henry slowly made his way to the girl. Standing over her, it looked to him as if she were not alive.

"Now where did you come from," he asked no one.

Removing one of his gloves as he knelt beside her, he placed the back of his hand against her forehead. Her skin was ice cold.

"Did you become lost?"

Bending over her, he placed his ear to her chest. He could hear a faint heartbeat and her chest slowly rose and dipped. She was breathing, but it was rather shallow.

Lifting his head, he considered her for a moment. She was quite pretty with her cropped curly blonde hair and freckled skin. He had only ever seen postulate nuns with shorn hair. Her dress was indeed odd. It was not the type of cloth to wear in the middle of the winter solstice.

Henry decided that he needed to get her warm or she would most certain freeze to death or parish from fever. However, it would be impossible to reach the castle or the nearby village before nightfall. Besides, his horse would not have the strength to carry them both. It would take an inanimate amount of time with one riding pillion.

Rising, he removed his cloak and placed it around the unconscious girl. Henry brought the horse closer and forced him to his forelegs in order to mount him carrying the girl. He carefully lifted the near frozen girl into his arms and mounted his horse. Pulling on the reins, he brought the horse to a standing position.

"Walk on, walk on," he commanded.

The girl's body was ice cold. Henry feared she would not survive. His only option was to take her to the cave he passed on the opposite side of the escarpment. He would have to make camp there and build a fire. This petite girl in his arms appeared to have a voluptuousness that he appreciated in women. Although, he sensed this was not a typical maiden. Her body bounced lightly upon his lap warming and arousing him. He felt shame for the imagery that was conjuring in his mind. Her life could not afford such contemplations.

Reaching the cave, Henry again commanded the horse down in order for him to dismount. Carrying the girl just inside the cave, he placed her upon the ground. Leading the horse inside the cave, he pulled the blanket from his knapsack and placed it over the girl.

He quickly went to work on building a fire. Luckily, he found dry shrubbery within the cave. Once he had the fire ablaze, he removed his gloves and placed his hand upon the girl's forehead and cheek. She was trembling so violently that it appeared she was suffering a seizure. Her body was cold, but her head was burning. Henry was aware of survival training. After all, he was a soldier. This was not the first time he had to use his training.

Survival technique number one was to keep warm. Shared bodily warmth was paramount. Stripping off his red leather jacket, he immediately felt the chill. His doeskin breeches were damp from kneeling earlier in the snow. It would not do well to become ill himself. Therefore, he shed the breeches as well with his leggings remaining for modesty's sake, lied beside the shivering girl, and covered them both with the blanket.

Placing his arms under and around her, he pulled her body to his. Her body continued to quake in his arms. The loose fabric she was adorned in did nothing to alleviate her tremors, but the fire seemed to begin to warm them both. Placing his chin upon her head, her shaking began to subside.

The girl smelled of flowers. It reminded Henry of springtime. He longed for the spring. The world became fresh and alive at that time of year. No more cold, bare trees or meadows, but alive and renewed.

Suddenly, the girl moaned. Henry looked down at her as she snuggled her face into his bare chest. Her shuddering had ceased, but she was now stirring his loins. He felt he would explode as her soft puffs of breath whispered upon his chest. It would not do well to fall asleep. She could awaken and be in for quite the shock. In bed with a near naked man…a stranger would be incomprehensible. She would certainly be out of sorts.

The girl's soft curvy body was wreaking havoc upon him. Oh how easily he could take her. He was the King of England. It was his right. However, he would not and could not take advantage in her current state of illness. Besides, he had imbibed in more than one willing courtesan.

Uncle Exeter continued to harangue him about his marital status. He was insistent about the upcoming inevitable meeting with Princess Katherine of France. Described as an intriguing beauty, Henry protested vociferously due to her age. She was but 14 years of age to his five and twenty. A child. He was a free spirit and would not marry until he found one to initiate a spark not only in his loins, but his mind as well.

_Ah well…I can think upon that later. For now, I will watch over you Sleeping Beauty._

Kirsa felt warmth. It was such a relief from the blistering cold and then the fire that threatened to consume her. It was as if fire ants had been biting her, but then a soothing pair of arms surrounded her. Even her legs were suddenly warm. She felt something moist upon her brow. She tried to speak but couldn't. Restraint! She was being restrained, but it wasn't uncomfortable at all. Kirsa snuggled closer. Her mind began to drift back to sleep.

Henry had shifted them both. His arms were becoming heavy. Tiring from the ordeal of caring for the girl. Her knee had inadvertently come into contact with his groin causing him to groan. It did not hurt but it merely made him become more aroused in his current state. Shirking off the lascivious thoughts crossing his mind, he gently placed his lips at her brow and found himself planting tiny kisses upon it. She was seducing him in her unconscious state.

He tenderly pressed her body closer to his enclosing even his legs around hers to keep her warm. The voluptuousness of her body was pressed against his to where he was quite content and comfortable. Guilt was not a factor in his mind as he was caring for her and her fever seemed to have subsided. Sleep began to overtake him. The guards would be searching for him.

_I can afford to rest a while. She'll not awaken in the meanwhile. _

Shutting his eyes, Henry drifted off to sleep.

Kirsa's eyes fluttered a few times before she was able to completely open them. Her entire body ached and it was dark. Regardless, she was so warm. At that moment, she felt the comforting arms about her, but also could tell that she wasn't fully clothed.

_What's going on?! _

Reality hit her like a two ton sledgehammer. There was a man holding her. He wasn't wearing anything. Kirsa couldn't see as her mind was still in a fever induced fog.

Had she actually gone to bed with a complete stranger? Did she get drunk? Was she drugged at the wedding? How could she lose her virginity to a stranger?

At that moment, she realized she couldn't have had sex because her lady parts were not aching. She had to get to the bottom of this. She would have to pry herself loose from the man's arms. It was so dark except for the faint light from a dying fire. The embers that remained cast a glow upon her supposed lover's face. He was quite handsome in a rugged way. Kirsa could tell he was tall for his head was well above hers and his legs were wrapped around her own but continued past her feet.

He adorned a scar upon his right cheek. Kirsa watched him sleep. He held her as a lover. Well, at least in her mind, this was how a lover should hold their partner. Caring and claiming all at once. His reddish beard, or so it seemed, tickled her forehead. For some unknown reason, she felt safe within the confines of his arm, legs, and the blanket. Where on Earth was she? Why was she sleeping on a hard floor?

Attempting to raise her head, everything was spinning and the anxiety set in. Not a good combination. Lying helpless with a stranger, unable to move, and lost. What if he kidnapped her and was some type of serial killer?

Without warning, she heard a sound near her. Turning to face the sound, she noticed a horse. It startled her so much so that she jerked her head causing it to connect with the sleeping stranger's chin.

_Fuuuuuuck!_

Henry was roused awake by a slight blow to his chin.

Looking at the still sleeping form in his arms, he placed his lips to her forehead and whispered, "So…you're still asleep. No fever. That is indeed a relief."

He carefully removed his arms from around her and sat up at the waist and rested his head upon his bent arm.

"From whence do you hail? I have never laid eyes upon such sweetness," he whispered as he placed the blanket to her neck.

Kirsa was terrified he would become wise to her consciousness.

_British?! I didn't meet any British guys at the wedding. Where did he come from? I need to wake up? How?! What if he is a psychopath? Oh God! What do I do now?_

"Your breaths seem to be steady now little one."

Henry noticed that she once again began to tremble. The fire had long gone down to mere embers. He had to start it once again or they both would be in dire straits. Leaving the warmth of his companion, he dressed into his jacket and trousers. He then began to place more wood upon the burning coals.

To Kirsa's chagrin and yet elated joy, she was free of her captor. Now was her chance to escape, but to where? Her clothes were indeed not suited for winter weather and she had not one clue where she was. Freedom won out. Her plan was to run as fast as she could and find the nearest business or house. She was bound to find someone to help her.

While his back was to her, Kirsa carefully and quietly rose. Her head was still a bit foggy, but she was willing to take a chance. With all her strength she could muster, she bolted past the stranger.

Henry was so shocked that she had been awake that he nearly burned himself on the fire. Jumping up, he sprinted after the pseudo-ill minx.

"Stop! Wait! I mean you no harm," he exclaimed after her.

"Stay away from me! Leave me alone! Help! Somebody please," yelled Kirsa to no one.

She stumbled through the forest with her captor fast on her heels. Twigs and branches scratching at her face, she ran blindly through the thicket. Unfortunately, she was so busy watching him behind her that she didn't see the roots of the trees sticking up like barriers blocking her from escape. She tumbled to the ground breaking off the heels of one of her shoes.

Kirsa scrambled to get back up, but she was breathless and weak. She pulled herself along the cold wet floor of the forest but was not able to make any progress as her kidnapper, or so he seemed was upon her.

"Are you alright," he asked breathless.

Kirsa turned to face him. He really was handsome…and…tall. She loved tall men. She really felt pathetic for thinking such thoughts.

"Please—don't hurt me," her voice quavered.

Henry knelt down before her, "I have no intention of causing you harm milady. I was merely healing you. I found you lying in the forest with only this," he gestured to her dress, "adornment. You would have frozen had I not come upon you when I did."

Kirsa simply stared at him.

Henry noted the fear in her eyes. She looked like a wild animal that would strike or bite him by the slightest movement toward her. He kept his distance of her.

He also noticed the cuts and scrapes she received from her escape attempt.

"Please," he said offering her his hand, "let me help you back to the cave. You need to be warm. I fear for your health. You were feverish and I am certain you remain thus. You have my solemn oath as a gentleman that I will not harm thee."

_Is he serious? 'Thee' and 'thus'?!_

Kirsa contemplated her situation. He was right. She would undoubtedly freeze to death out in the elements. Dressed in an evening gown and heels was not conducive to the environment. She was cold. Even her teeth were chattering and she felt so very weak. She still thought maybe he was a psycho. Perhaps he saw her and drugged her in anticipation of kidnapping her? What on Earth would an attractive man want with her?

Reaching for his hand, she thought to herself, "I'm probably going to regret this."

Henry assisted her to a standing position. She was very petite. She could not have been but one and a half meters tall. He knew she did not trust him, but she had no choice in the matter. He also had noticed her accent. She had a peculiar one. He could not place it. It was not English nor was it Slavic.

Kirsa watched him carefully as he helped her to her feet. He was lean, but solid. She knew well as she had nearly been intimate with him pressed so close to his chest. As she stood, she had forgotten about her broken heel on her shoe. She slipped again and caught her ankle between roots of the trees.

"Ouch!"

"Let me help you," he said as he reached down to free her trapped foot.

"Thank you," she said in a whisper.

Henry smiled up at her.

Kirsa felt she would swoon from the alluring smile. It was surreal. He was such a ruggedly beautiful man. He reminded her of someone. It just wasn't coming to her.

_Gods! I'm such a pathetic loser! What's wrong with me? He's probably a complete mad man!_

"Come little one. We must get you by the fire."

They started to walk when he noticed she was having difficulty with her foot wear.

"It is completely unnecessary for you to attempt walking."

With that said he picked her up and started for the cave. Kirsa was in such a state of shock that she couldn't protest. By the time she could think of something to say, they were already back inside the cave.

Placing her upon her feet, Henry picked up his cloak and wrapped it around her. She swayed as she watched him stoking the fire. Her head was fuzzy again and she wished to be warm and lying in his soothing arms.

_Here I go again! Jesus! Is he that gorgeous or am I stoned? _

"Come and sit by the fire please."

Kirsa moved to the fire and set beside him, but not too close. Henry noticed her hesitation and smiled.

"I would like to assure you Miss; I have the noblest intentions toward yourself."

"Who are you? Why am I in a cave? I didn't see you at the wedding. What do you want with me?"

Henry was intrigued.

"Shall we have introductions before we begin to understand your predicament?"

Kirsa nodded.

Henry stood. "My name is Henry. Henry Plantagenet. I am of," he paused, "a noble house." He bowed to Kirsa.

Kirsa looked up at him in awe. He is definitely old school.

"My name is Kirsa. Kirsa Dittmar. I'm of no house but I'm from Texas."

"Texas," Henry repeated with a look of confusion appearing upon his face.

"You're English," Kirsa said. "Where are we?"

"Why, you are in Westminster milady."

Kirsa continued to look at him in a state of perplexity.

"England," Henry continued.

Kirsa's mouth opened and closed a few times. She shook her head slightly.

"England? How can that be? I was in Austin at my friend's wedding. I know they were going to England for their honeymoon, but—why are you dressed like that and—a horse! What the hell is going on here?!"

Henry was as bewildered as Kirsa. She was using strange words and was dressed in unusual clothing. Perhaps she was an escaped mad woman? Before that happened, he began to attempt to reason with her. He feared she was going to become hysterical.

"Milady, I do not know under what circumstances you came to be in this realm, but I can assure you I do not know under what pretenses you were brought here. This is England. I am going to help you to the best of my ability, but you must be reasonable. I know not where this Texas or Austin is in England. I have never heard of such a place, nor do I fathom your language or dress. You seem to be in a delusional state."

Kirsa felt her anxiety return. Where in the world was her purse. She wished she had brought her Xanax with her. She felt the pressure in her chest as her heart beat wildly. Suddenly, the cave was closing in on her, the fire burned higher, and her breathing became shallow and too fast. She began to sway slightly.

Henry feared she would swoon and hit her head upon the ground. He reached out to her and assisted her to sit down.

"Please. Calm yourself. We shall consider the options as to what has become of you," Henry said quietly to her as they sat down.

"I'm having an anxiety attack and need my prescription. I need to find a drug store."

Henry looked at her oddly. Now he was convinced that she was ill.

"Don't look at me like that. Have I suddenly sprouted horns or something? I need to know what is going on here," she exclaimed.

Henry decided that chivalry was not going to work with this strange girl. It was clear to him that she hadn't a clue as to who he was. Puffing his chest out and sticking out his chin, he would use his power as ruler to calm her and attempt to ease her mind. He did not wish to frighten her, but it was evident that she was becoming more and more agitated.

"You girl, will not use that tone with your ruler. I am King of England and you have been a most unwitting subject. Now, you will yield to me and obey. Do you understand?"

Kirsa simply stared at him with her mouth agape. He was insane.

_King of England? Henry Plantagenet? What—OH MY GOD! He really is—I've traveled back in time? Uncle Quido! What have you done?!_

The last thing Kirsa remembered was feeling herself falling…right into Henry's lap. Blackness-

She dreamed of rolling grassy hills and meadows overflowing with flowers of all colors. The sun was high in the sky and the birds were flittering across the vast blueness. She ran toward the top of the hill to better see the countryside. It was breathtaking.

She could see the castle in the distance. _"I wonder what he is doing right now?" _Standing there daydreaming for a moment, she turned to start her trek back to the village when suddenly out of nowhere, a white horse reared and protested her presence. She screamed as it looked like the horse would fall down upon her.

"Kirsa! Kirsa!"

She could hear someone calling her name.

"Awaken milady!"

She was being lifted up by her arms and pulled into an embrace. She was shaking, but the embrace was comforting and familiar. Once coming to her senses, she realized it was Henry.

_Henry! Oh no! I'm still here. I thought it was all a dream! _

"Are you alright Kirsa?"

Kirsa sighed and reluctantly released Henry.

"Thank you your majesty. I am quite alright. It was merely a ridiculous dream. My apologies for startling you. I also must apologize for my odd behavior."

She stood and knelt before him.

"There is no need for that Kirsa. You are ill. I must say that I have been quite concerned. In your earlier state, I was afraid that you were overcome with delirium. I can see now that it was the fever that was upon you. I am relieved to see that you are well."

Kirsa stared into the fire trying to think of some way to explain this to him.

_Uncle! Oh where are you? We had talked about this yes, but I wasn't prepared._

She turned her face toward the king. The explanation had to be planned. According to history, Hal was one smart cookie. Lucky for her, she knew her history, but also made it a point to specifically study the Plantagenet legacy. She and her "mad scientist" Uncle Quido Dittmar had many a talk about Richard II, Henry IV and his son, Henry V. She was quite taken by him. By all accounts, he appeared to be quite handsome, and now that she was seated next to the man himself, she was certainly not mistaken.

The scar from the arrow wound was still prominent. It made him look even more distinguished. It must have hurt like the dickens to have that thing removed. She noticed how much he looked like Tom Hiddleston's own Hal. No wonder she was enchanted.

"Your majesty," she began, "may I beg for audience?"

Henry looked over at her and smirked.

"My dear Kirsa, there is no need for such formalities. After all, I am not wearing my crown and we are not at court. Please…" he responded.

"You asked where I hail. I am from the lower region of Germany."

Henry looked at her with a hint of skepticism. He was very well traveled due most in part to his father's predecessor Richard. However, he had never been to the North of Germanic country. She for certain had the look of the Germanic peoples with her fair skin and blonde hair but with a fragility of manner he believed was contrary to what he identified as Slavik.

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

It did not take Kirsa by surprise. After all, she had prepared herself for this questioning.

"Ja, ich spreche Deutsch."

Henry smiled and prodded the fire…knowing he was a fool for asking.

"Sie sprechen es sehr gut ihre Majestät," she continued. "Wo haben Sie Deutsch sprechen?"

He looked up at her and tilted his head to the side.

"Oxford."

Kirsa bit her lower lip and nodded. He still looked too smug for her liking. She decided to throw him a curve ball.

"Je ne suis pas aussi versé en allemand comme je suis en français."

_French! Damn! I am lousy at French! _

She paused for a moment and giggled.

"Pardonnez-moi ..."

He smiled at her with a know-it-all grin.

"Mon français est—mauvais!"

Henry laughed.

Kirsa's pride and ego were bruised by his chuckling. She let herself shine for only if the briefest of moments. Not to be outdone by a pompous noble king, she switched tactics on him…

"Είμαι πολύ καλύτερα στα ελληνικά." Translation: "You see, I'm much better at Greek."

Henry sat there and eyed her suspiciously.

"Greek. Touche my dear lady," he responded as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

Kirsa smiled at him. They sat there in silence for a few seconds and then both stared back into the fire.

"Your majesty,"

Henry looked over at her. "Please call me Henry," he requested of her.

She smiled and looked into the fire.

"Very well…Henry. I must confess something to you. I do not know anyone in the nearby village (she was hoping there was a nearby village) nor do I have any relatives in Westminster. I believe I have been robbed. What is to become of me?"

Kirsa was hoping that she would be able to bide her time with him until she could figure out her dire situation.

"You will accompany me back to the castle and we will set about to find what has happened to you. I fear you were injured during your ordeal. Perhaps you were hit about the head."

Henry moved closer to her. Reaching up, he inquired, "May I?"

Kirsa nodded in response.

He gently placed his hands upon her head palpating his way to feel if she was sound. His hands seemed to linger a bit more than was necessary causing her at one point to almost release aloud a sigh of contentment. It did not go unnoticed by him.

"Your head seems sound to me. However, there is the possibility it was bruised. Do you not remember anything preceding your unconscious state?"

Kirsa lied. "I do remember traveling through the nearby village on horseback, but my horse was spooked, reared, and I fell. Perhaps my horse has gone back to the village? I should let you be and get started back to the village. It must be early morning by now?"

She hoped that he would buy her lie at least until she could figure out what on Earth to do.

"By no means will I allow a young maiden to travel alone in the dark. There are many thieves about even well into morning. You are still not well enough. As a matter of fact, I believe that you should still be resting."

Henry placed the blanket upon the ground and coerced Kirsa to lie down. He then placed his cloak atop her to keep her warm.

"Oh no! I cannot take your cloak! It is too cold. You might become ill yourself!" She took off his cloak and offered it to him.

"I wouldn't hear of such a thing. I am warm by this fire. I insist, you must rest little Kirsa."

The last statement was more of a command. Who was she to disobey a king? Lying down, she smiled up at him. "Thank you your majesty. Thank you for rescuing me."

"It was my pleasure and my duty milady."

Once again, Kirsa closed her eyes and feigned sleep.

_What am I going to do?_

"I am quite concerned Quido! She hasn't returned from Colleen's wedding! What in the hell is going on? After all, she spends all of her free time with you working on all those ridiculous experiments!"

Quido Dittmar looked at his younger brother and patted him on the back. "She is fine brother. You worry over her like a mother hen. I promise you, she merely went on an excursion. She will be back in time."

"That's what I'm afraid of Quido! Time! Please tell me you did NOT send her back. I know that your experiments have a tendency to actually work, but at quite a high price. Remember," said Kirsa's father Paul.

Quido only stared back at his brother.

Paul held the look of disbelief upon his face.

"No! You sent her to 15th century England!? How could you!?"

"I promise you Paul, she will be perfectly fine. In fact…"

Paul interrupted him, "You know that is a dangerous time. She is obsessed with the Plantagenets and they were not the noble men that we read and see on PBS specials Quido! Get her back now!"

Quido moaned. "I'll go directly, but give her some time. I promise you, she is safe! As a matter of fact, I had visited prior to sending her. She is in competent hands."

Paul shook his head. "No! Absolutely not! I don't care what you say you saw when you 'visited'. Being a scholar myself Quido, I know the history! She is in danger."

"Of what Paul? Falling in love with that century, the people, the place…history? Your daughter has a keen sense. She is a brilliant scholar. Trust her."

Paul knew his brother was right. His daughter did not belong in the 21st century. She was born too late. He was always saying that. Many a night, they had discussed the possibility of time travel. Now, it seemed, it was a reality. He feared for her safety. The Plantagenets may have been royalty, but for the most part, they were less than the magnanimous portrait that they had been painted to be. Harry Plantagenet least of all. He was a brutal and ruthless soldier. It was known that he appreciated the term "soldier king".

His little Kirsa was still his baby girl. With three older brothers, she was treated like glass. She despised it and would often try to prove them all wrong. She was not a Tomboy, but a caring and resilient young woman. He hoped against hope that the king would be opposite of all he had learned about him.

"I trust you Quido. Just please, bring her back safely."

"Don't worry brother. I promise."

Paul Dittmar began to exit the room when he stopped at the door, "And bring yourself back in one piece you mad scientist!"

Quido smiled and watched his brother leave the room.

He walked over to his desk and picked up the picture frame. There, housed within the frame, was a smiling Kirsa. It was the day she graduated from university. She was always a brilliant student. She excelled at all the History and Literature courses. Now, it appeared, she was getting first-hand experience from an historical icon. King Henry the fifth.

"Alright Dickens," he said to his English Bull Terrier, "let's go and fetch Kirsa."


	2. Chapter 2 - Vertigo & Blushes

Riding pillion with Henry was a bit unnerving. Not that it was uncomfortable, because she was seated nearly upon his lap, but because she was inappropriately dressed for riding a horse. Her gown was ripped and exposed far too much of her skin for the 15th century. Henry placed his cloak around her to keep her warm, but she feared for his own health and attempted to refuse his offer.

"Do not defy me Lady Kirsa. You are quite invariably ill. I do not wish to again see you unconscious with fever. It is warmer today and I have on my leather jerkin. There is not a cloud in sight. My castle is but a short distance."

She would not dare disobey a commanding man in his position. It would be absurd not to mention downright dangerous. Good thing she had researched all she could about the "soldier king".

As they rode, they fell into an easy conversation. Kirsa feigned ignorance of Westminster when in fact she was an astute aficionado on the majority of English geography.

Henry was quite taken with the pretty Kirsa. By all appearances, she seemed very knowledgeable upon a number of subjects, but didn't seem very incisive of her own surroundings. He wondered if she was still suffering the after-effects of the fever-induced delirium. It concerned him, but not enough to take his mind off of her voluptuous body pressing against him. He swore that his horse was trying to kill him as he seemed to hit every pitfall in the road which caused Kirsa's bottom to jiggle relentlessly against his lap.

Kirsa did her best to not sit directly on top of Henry's lap, but it was difficult as each dip in the road was causing her to shift unwittingly to his lap. She would apologize each time it happened. She occasionally would hear him groan as if in pain…or was it frustration?

"I am sorry," she would relay and try sliding as far forward as possible.

"Please, 'tis all well," he responded doing his best to remain diverted. It wasn't working for Kirsa could feel his _frustration _poking her in the lower back.

A conversation or two later, Kirsa was beginning to tire. Not to mention the fact that she hadn't relieved herself in a long time. She wasn't sure if it was the constant jostling and the closeness of his majesty or if she was still suffering the side-effects of the time travel that seemed to have brought on fever. She decided to request a pit stop.

"Henry," she began, "would you mind if we stopped for a bit. I must," she paused, "uhm," she didn't know how to request that she had to go to the "little girl's room".

Luckily, Henry was not completely ignorant to her needs. "Of course," he said in a deep timbre that rumbled within his chest making Kirsa tremble. He also was in dire need to relieve himself. "Incidental, for my horse needs rest."

Pulling the stallion aside, he dismounted and began to assist Kirsa down. She placed her hands upon his shoulders as he placed his upon her waist. She noticed how large his hands really were once they were firmly placed there.

Henry couldn't help but observe, with his hands placed upon her hips, indeed how curvaceous she truly was. With her torn gown, he briefly caught a glimpse of the shapely thighs. Her ample bosom brushed against his cheek as he lifted her down from the stallion.

"I'm sorry Henry," she said as she leaned against him to regain her balance. He steadied her by placing both arms around her.

"Please do not apologize to me Kirsa. You still appear to be recovering. Do you wish for me to accompany you? I fear that you may take a spill."

Kirsa was taken aback. "_Accompany me?! Hell no! Not to pee! Me squatting and him standing there waiting on me,"_ she thought to herself. "Oh no your majesty! I'll be quite alright thank you," she said as she wandered into the trees.

"Please do not hesitate to cry out if you need assistance dear one."

"Did he just call me _dear one_?"

Kirsa found a spot well concealed but still near enough to see the horse. She squatted and it was then she noticed the cold. She began to shiver from the frigid temperature. She finished her business as quickly as possible and stood. All at once, she had a dizzy spell. Reaching out, she placed her hand upon the nearby tree to steady herself.

"Whoa there," she whispered to no one. After a few seconds, the vertigo seemed to ease. She was hoping she wasn't receiving a rebound of the bout of fever she had earlier.

Adjusting her dress and pulling her panties out of her ass, she began walking back toward the clearing. Henry had broken off the heel to her other shoe so that she could walk normally. He was all questions about her attire. She made up a story about it being a new fashion statement in Paris. He was concerned about the _young ladies wearing such revealing apparel. They may catch their deaths._

Henry had been awaiting her in the clearing standing regally next to his horse. Kirsa couldn't help but gasp looking at him in the daylight. He was tall, well-built, and one hundred percent breathtaking. For a moment, she forgot to move and was overwhelmed by her situation. Her knees locked and she nearly collapsed.

Henry wore a look of concern as he rushed to her side. Placing his long arms about her, he picked her up and carried her to the horse.

"Now I am certain that I must get you in warm shelter. Truly little Kirsa, you are still ill." He gripped the horse's reins in his hand forcing him down in order to mount with Kirsa in his grasp.

"Please do not be concerned for me. It will pass soon. I am merely overwhelmed by it all."

Not responding, he placed her gently upon the horse's back and pulled the reins to have the horse rise.

"I feel very improper your majesty. What will court say when you ride into the gates with me upon your lap and dressed in this manner," she asked softly. "They will call me a harlot. Your mistress." Although, she had to admit, she liked the sound of the latter.

Placing his foot in the stirrup, he slung a long leg across the other side of the horse and planted himself in the saddle. Without warning, he again scooped her up into his arms and gently placed her upon his lap leaving her no choice but to look directly into his cerulean eyes.

His lips were so close now that she could almost taste his breath upon her tongue.

"Sweet Kirsa," his voice washed over her as a caress, "I have not the time to agonize over gossip…and if anyone dares to bear false witness upon you in such an insensitive manner, they will answer to me."

She had just beheld the soldier king within him. He was in truth quite fearsome. It was no wonder he was given the nickname. He had even frightened her in that moment.

Henry perceived her look of alarm. Removing his gloves, he reached up and stroked her cheek with his bare knuckles. In a husky voice he said, "I do not wish you to fear me. I would never cause thee harm." Looking deeply into her smoldering eyes, and with the slightest pressure, nudged her closer to his body.

It seemed as if time had stopped when his lips met her lips. It was a whisper of a kiss, but it was enough to cause flames to erupt within her and spread throughout her body. She could swear she felt it down to her toes.

Kirsa's eyes remained closed after he released the kiss and she sighed at the loss of his warm lips upon hers. Henry smiled and pulled his gloves back on and urged the horse to walk. It shook Kirsa out of her kiss hangover and she once again feigned shyness at his actions.

"You have me at a disadvantage your majesty. I am unaccustomed to," she paused and placed her fingers to her lips, "kissing."

In truth, she'd been kissed, but not like that. Clearly he'd had his share of women. It was an unspoken reality in history that men were free to have as many intimate relations they wished, but for women, it was strictly taboo.

"Apologies milady, but your lips beckoned me. I could go no longer resist their temptation."

Kirsa smiled bashfully as her chest, neck, then face turned rose colored. It did not go unnoticed by the king as he smirked in response. Urging the horse to a slow gallop, they continued toward Windsor Castle.


	3. Chapter 3 - Entering the Gates

_**Another chapter...I am not a science fiction writer so explanations of the time travel will have to wait for a while. Thanks for reviewing and sticking with me. I'll keep writing if you keep reading! Hugs!**_

Henry saw the spiraling towers of Windsor above in the horizon. Stopping the horse for a rest, he looked down at the girl sleeping in his arms. She was leaning against him. The soft golden curls brushing against the bare patch of skin at his collar caused him to lean his head down and bury his nose in her hair. The scent was intoxicating and only managed to arouse his senses even more. It was a floral scent mixed with something he was not aware.

He did not wish to awaken her, but would need to in order to climb down before entering the gates. Kirsa was correct. He did not want to bring dishonor to her by riding into court with her astride his lap.

"Lady Kirsa," he said quietly as he moved the unruly curls aside to see her eyes.

Kirsa blinked a few times and opened up her eyes to see perhaps the handsomest man on the planet smiling down at her. Returning his smile with her own, she sat up. "Oh sire, forgive me. How long have I been asleep?"

"No need for that, we are here. I wish to dismount so that you may ride atop my steed and I shall walk us through the gates. Yonder is my castle."

Kirsa looked up and indeed, there it was. Windsor Castle. It looked quite different from when she visited it two years ago. It looked fresh. The bricks and mortar were still white and there were no other buildings nearby. Only tiny homes scattered here and there across the landscape. To say the least, it was spectacular.

Here he was, the King of England, walking alongside his stallion with a lost woman atop it resembling a ravaged young maiden from yon village. Kirsa nearly giggled aloud at the absurdity of her situation; although, she was far from amused. _Where are you Uncle? How am I to get out of this mess?_

In truth, she was not having a bad time, but if she had been prepared, she wouldn't feel quite so uneasy. It hadn't occurred to her that she possibly might have altered history by being present. _Shit!_

Henry's voice jostled her from her reverie.

"Do you approve of the castle milady?"

Kirsa smiled at him, "I dare say there would be scarce anyone to disapprove."

That generated a proud and joyful smile upon his handsome face.

It made Kirsa's head swim to think that she was sitting in 15th century England and chatting up a King of England. Not to mention, a king that has been dead for over 500 years! Oh! The stories she would have for Uncle Quido.

Again, the troubling feeling washed over her. Where was her uncle? He surely must know what is happening and bring her back to the 21st century. Uncle always had a plan. No matter what the situation was, he was the resource that everyone confided. Now, more than ever, she needed his wisdom, for if she put one foot out of line, it could be disastrous not only for her, but for possibly the world itself.

Kirsa was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed that Henry was standing beside the horse looking up at her with a strange expression. Apparently, he'd been watching her for some time as she anguished over her quandary.

"Lady Kirsa, I am concerned for your well-being. I have been speaking to you and have received no reply." He was looking at her most warily.

_Uh oh!_ She had to think quickly. He was most intuitive. Perhaps she could faint again. _No…most definitely not. He'd put me in the hands of some 15__th__ century physician. No telling WHAT kind of potions and prodding they would utilize on me. Better just tell him I'm still weak._

"Please forgive me your majesty. I guess I'm still a bit week. I am sure that a few hours in front of a fire will set me to rights."

Henry's eyebrows shot up with her admittance that she was feeling weak. He quickly placed his foot in the stirrup and hauled himself back up on the horse and planted himself firmly behind her once again placing his arms on either side of her making her feel secure in the saddle.

"I have asked you before dear one to address me as Henry. I fear that I have been remiss in your care. You are trembling."

Pulling her closer to his body, Kirsa nearly moaned aloud at how good it felt to be pressed so tightly against his muscular body. He enclosed her within the cloak and made certain that her hands were covered.

"Let me warm your hands." He took both of her hands within his gloved hand. It occurred to her how very large his hands truly were upon enclosing his around both of hers. It also, at that moment struck her that the size of a man's hands was usually a good indicator of the size of their…accouterments. She began to shiver a bit more at the thoughts flooding her mind.

"Do not concern yourself with court. Those windbags have nothing better to do than to involve themselves in my activities. They are waiting for me to commit errors in judgment and in matters of the state. I had quite the rebellious youth."

"I know," she said and regretted it as soon as she uttered the words.

Henry laughed, "Eh eh eh. I will not balk at that remark little Kirsa."

"I didn't mean to offend…"

"You did not offend. I am known throughout the lands as 'Hal' the wayward prince."

She loved to hear him laugh. It was such a carefree sound.

"On to Windsor," he said and drove the stallion toward the keep.

Quido arrived in Windsor. He did love to visit often. The bustling keep was always an event to witness. He would appear incognito usually as a shopper in the midst. He had seen the king once but made no attempts at contact. He would leave that up to his niece.

Kirsa would be stressing about now. If his timing was accurate, which it usually was, they should be arriving any minute now. He stood by the gates to be certain he would not miss them. He was not concerned about his niece. She was quite capable of handling unknown situations. He did however concern himself with her health. There were side-effects to the time travel that he had conquered. Headaches, fever, and vertigo had subsided after his numerous treks through time months ago. By his calculations, Kirsa's age would cause her to be less resilient. It would be setting in and deliver the blow by the time she arrived at the castle. It was imperative that he was present to assist and also reassure her that she had nothing to fear.

As if on cue, the gates began to rise. Quido looked up and there was the king himself towing precious cargo...his niece. As he suspected, Harry had been caring for her. For all intents and purposes, Kirsa was the damsel in distress and he, as told by fairy tales, the knight in shining armor.

She was riding pillion upon the horse. Quido smiled knowing how uncomfortable that can be for not only the rider, but the person in tow. From the looks of it, they appeared to be enjoying one another's company. Who wouldn't enjoy his niece for she had the cheeriest disposition and could charm a king…even the mighty Henry the Fifth.

Upon entering the gates of Windsor, the bustling of the community became silent for all wanted to know whom the king had within his arms upon his royal lap.

_"__Who is she?"_

_"__She be wearin' his cloak!"_

_"__She must be one of his concubines."_

_"__Probably a whore from his past."_

Quido overheard some of the rude comments from the people in the square and could not stop from remarking using his best Cockney English accent.

"You ought not speak such rude natter. His majesty will have you run through."

Some of the onlookers nodded in agreement and the crowds dispersed returning to their daily routines but not before catching a glimpse of the impressive sight before them.

Henry could see the villagers gawking at them and would return a stare with an imperial glower of his own.

Kirsa felt self-conscious and underdressed. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine and wondered if it was a sign that she was getting in way over her head with this whole ordeal.

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a grey haired man with a walking stick. He stared at Kirsa and grinned. _Uncle!_ She very nearly screamed aloud.


	4. Chapter 4 - Uncles

**I am not certain that I included the fact that this is not going to be historically accurate. Forgive me, but I myself am NOT a historian. I do know a bit about the Plantagenets and Henry V. After all, it is one of my favorite Shakeys plays. Tom is a bonus! I am all about the knight in shining armor rescuing the damsel in distress. I hope you like this chapter. I am working as fast as I can. Thanks for hanging with me. **

"Do not make yourself uneasy dear one," he said while turning the horse toward the stable entrance.

By this time, many of his guards had appeared. One gentleman in particular approached them quickly with a look of concern etched upon his face. She wondered if he was Uncle Exeter?

"My Lord," he exclaimed trying to catch his breath and bowed.

"Good Uncle Exeter! How are you fairing this fine morning? Allow me to introduce the fair lady Kirsa."

He merely stared up at the king and Kirsa with a disapproving expression. Taking in her ripped dress and unkempt hair, he looked back at his majesty and continued, "I have been quite despairing over your whereabouts and hath sent ahead a reconnaissance party."

Henry dismounted after the stable hand took the reins. "There was no need for concern uncle, for I have been otherwise agreeably engaged," he said as he grasped Kirsa's waist to assist her down from the stallion. She swore he took his time…pulling her closer to his body than was necessary. His shoulders were solid as was the rest of him. Definitely was hard as steel.

Upon releasing her, Henry turned and continued his conversation with Exeter. Kirsa was shaky and her body ached but her head was swimming causing her to sway a bit.

"Henry," she uttered and leaned against the horse to try and keep her balance, but it was no use, she began to crumple to the ground.

Henry had turned and saw that Kirsa had turned pale and was about to collapse. Before she fainted, he caught her in his arms. Dismissing his uncle's objections, he jolted past him and carried her inside the castle.

"Fetch my physician quickly," he shouted to his servants.

ooOOooOOooOOooOO

Meanwhile, Quido had witnessed the entire scene. He was aware that this would happen and he had to act quickly. For now, his niece was in a precarious state. There were no physicians in the 15th century and any that claimed to render aid were nothing more than shysters that charged a fortune to "bleed" a patient. Most patients died from anemia.

After making his way to the rear of the stable quarters, Quido changed and brought his medical satchel which contained bottles of clean water, bandages, antibiotics, and Ibuprofen. He'd be damned if he'd let some 15th century quack harm his niece.

He quickly rounded the stable and entered the interior of the castle towards the royal chambers. Knowing his research of the archives and maps would come in handy one day, he never imagined he'd actually be maneuvering the corridors possibly to save his niece from the hands of 15th century medicine.

ooOOooOOooOOooOO

"Kirsa…can you hear me?"

Kirsa felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness. She could hear a familiar voice but couldn't see. Opening her eyes, everything was not unlike her mind, foggy and confused. Someone was lightly wiping her forehead with a cool cloth. A face came into view. A face stamped with concern and intense blue eyes looked down at her. _King Henry._

"How is the patient?"

Another familiar voice…Uncle Quido!

Kirsa nearly sat up when she heard his voice, but Henry softly patted her shoulders to reassure her and pin her down. The face of her dear uncle came into view and she smiled.

"You had me worried," he said in his native German accent. The salt and pepper hair had been replaced with longer gray locks and his usually handsome face which had been etched with concern now was beginning to transform to one of delight. He looked so different in his vintage clothing.

"How did you find me uncle?"

"Kirsa," Henry began, "he had been searching for you. Apparently, you have been quite ill and wandered from Eton."

"Your kindness and chivalry in caring for my dear Kirsa is greatly appreciated your majesty. How can we ever repay you," her uncle relayed.

The king raised his hand and shook his head in response. "The only payment I wish to receive is to see your niece well."

After conveying this to her uncle, he looked down at Kirsa and smiled. "I have been agonizing over your condition my lady. If it not for your uncle being a physician…" he paused, "I dare not think upon it."

Kirsa smiled up at him, "Thank you your majesty."

The look upon his face changed to one of dejection, for Kirsa knew her mistake.

"I'm sorry…Henry."

"She should not address you in such an informal manner my Lord."

Immediately, Henry's face changed to that of annoyance. "You forget yourself dear uncle. I do not ask for your counsel nor company. Now, if you will, I wish to speak with my guests in private."

Exeter departed the chambers leaving the three of them alone.

"You will have to forgive my uncle. He is most cautious and has a tendency to exceed boundaries within my personal life."

Quido nodded. "No need for explanation sire."

Turning to Kirsa, he gingerly swiped a loose curl from her forehead. "I am pleased that your fever has subsided. You will be up and around in no time."

Kirsa had just noticed her surroundings. She was in a large and lavishly decorated room. There was a roaring fire in a massive fireplace along with many fine tapestries, rugs, and paintings. The bed she was lying in was immense. It then occurred to her that she was possibly in HIS chambers.

"Am I in your chambers my Lord?" She felt small compared to her surroundings.

"Yes. I would not have you anywhere else. You were in need of medical attention and my chambers are the most comfortable. Do you not remember what occurred?"

Of course she remembered passing out, but she didn't expect to put anyone out of their rooms; least of all the king!

"Oh no! I cannot be in here!"

The king looked at her in confusion. "Why ever not?"

"It is not suitable and besides, I would never want to inconvenience you."

Quido went about fidgeting with his satchel and different potion bottles that were filled with water. He had the appearance of a man about to burst. _Clever girl._

"Dearest Kirsa, you are my guest and you are ill. You are no inconvenience to anyone least of all me. My only wish is for your health to return."

Placing the blanket snugly around her, he stood.

"Now then, I leave you to your uncle. Make her well sir. I have some matters to attend and I shall return. Should you need anything, my guards and servants are at your service." He looked down and smiled at her once more, winked, and walked out the door.

Kirsa nearly fainted again because of that wink and sexy grin.

She sat up as her uncle sat beside her on the bed and embraced her. Kirsa couldn't stop the deluge of tears that spilled.

"It's alright my darling. I apologize for not arriving sooner. The time had to be precise. Apparently, it worked out as I calculated."

Kirsa backed away from him and looked at him as if he had gone mad. "Uncle Quido…you sent me here without any prep or instructions…what do you mean 'apparently it worked out as you calculated'?"

"You have enjoyed being here? Is he everything you thought he would be?"

Kirsa couldn't stay angry with her uncle if she tried. He was right. She was frightened in the beginning but the more she remained, the more exhilarated she had become. With the exception of feeling like shite from the time travel.

Quido was well aware he had struck a chord within her. The smile that was slowly appearing across her face was a telltale sign.

Leaning back against the lush down pillows, she smirked. "Will this pass eventually? You are worrying him. Remember now, most people died from trite colds in this era."

Quido rose from the bed and gave her an Ibuprofen and water. "Take this, drink the water, and get some rest. It will pass. Tomorrow you will feel one hundred percent."

"Now then," he began, "tell me all about him," he said as he settled himself in the lush armchair.

ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo

"You know I prefer not to meddle in your affairs sire, but this girl…who is she? From whence does she hail? Is she nobility, gentry, or is she a simple servant girl," Exeter questioned him.

Henry was seated at his desk going over the latest reports of France from his emissaries. He was becoming agitated and his uncle was not helping matters.

"Dear uncle, you are badgering me about assisting a helpless girl whom I came across in the forest that was near frozen to death. She is ill and was in need of my help. She might have died."

"I am aware of that your majesty, but as you know, I was appointed by your father to advise you in matters of such delicacy."

Henry became incensed, "Matters of delicacy? You mean my reputation as a 'wayward prince'?"

Exeter nodded his head. "Need I remind you that soon the meeting with the Lady Catherine of France will arrive…what then my Lord?"

"What indeed uncle? I have no intention of marrying…least of all a child."

Exeter wanted to continue his discussion, but Henry ignored him completely as he marched out of the room leaving him behind fuming inside.


	5. Chapter 5 - Linens & Lace

**Hello my lovelies! I hope you have all had a wonderful weekend. I am so happy to see all the new followers and readers and a few reviews. It's wonderful to know you are liking the story thus far. I am working on several other stories at once, so I haven't been able to visit Kirsa &amp; Henry as oft as I'd like. Thanks to you all for keeping my muse interested. This one has a little more interesting areas. Stay tuned, for soon, some "LEMONaid shall be provided. Hugs! **

Chapter 5 – Linen and Lace

"…so as you see, he's quite the gentleman," Kirsa ended the story of her liaisons with the king.

Quido had sat back watching and listening to his niece enthusiastically recall the events leading up to their eventual meeting. Luckily, all of his research and countless travels to the 15th century panned out. If he had sent her any earlier, she might have not been so fortunate. Bolingbroke would not have taken pity upon Kirsa. There's no telling what could have occurred. Although, he supposed that Kirsa would have found a way to charm the self-loathing nobleman.

"It's been an eventful time. How is your head?"

Kirsa contemplated her surroundings for a moment. It was awe-inspiring to say the least. The room was enormous. She had never seen anything like it. Well, she had seen the room; 500 years in the future. All of the furnishings looked as if the Ethan Allen Gallery had exploded within the walls of his room. The tapestries were exquisite and from all accounts they were centuries old.

"You're overwhelmed aren't you liebchen?"

She considered her uncle for a moment. "Well now that's the understatement of the year uncle."

He laughed in response.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Quido quickly stood and faced the door. It was Henry.

He appeared around the massive door. "May I enter?"

"Oh by all means," Kirsa quickly responded.

Henry entered with a smile to see that she was sitting up and looking recovered.

"Your pallor has returned. I am thankful to your uncle," he said as he looked at Quido.

"Your highness has been most gracious. We can no longer trespass on your hospitality your majesty. We will take our leave soon."

Henry was despondent, "For your niece's sake, I insist that you remain here. It would be most unfortunate should a relapse occur. I fear for her health my good man."

Quido smiled and bowed his head.

"Your majesty, you have been much too kind, and my uncle is correct, we have monopolized you for much too long. My illness appears to have subsided greatly from our arrival."

Quido knew full well that Henry wanted her to remain and by all accounts, he could see the longing in his eyes when he looked at her. He was getting on in years, but he could see when a man and woman were enamored of one another. He couldn't ignore his nieces glances and blushes at the gallant young lad.

As much as Kirsa wanted to return to her own time, she had to admit, she wished to visit the period and linger with him; Henry.

There was a silence in the room as Kirsa contemplated her quandary. Looking over at her uncle, she could see the twinkle in his eye. The old romantic scientist…he'd be certain to come up with something.

Kirsa looked at her uncle with hopeful eyes.

"Perhaps his majesty is correct my niece. We mustn't rush these fevers. If you did relapse, it may return with a vengeance and once again, you could be in danger of anemia. I would not have the capabilities to wipe away the scourge should this occur."

Both Kirsa and her uncle observed the hint of a smile and glimmer of hope that passed over Henry's charming face upon hearing Quido's admission.

"Very good. My home is your home and you are welcome as long as is needed."

Kirsa shifted uncomfortably in her gown. She hadn't thought about it earlier. She noticed her torn lavender bridesmaid dress draped over a chair nearby. When was she changed and who performed the act? The chemise she wore was made up of cotton batiste but softer to the touch. She'd only ever seen such lingerie in Bloomingdales. It had lace and tulle upon the sleeves and bodice; a peignoir set that she imagined wearing maybe upon her wedding night.

As she was lost in her thoughts, she noticed Henry speaking quietly to her uncle.

"…she may remain here under my care as you replenish your stores. The charge nurse will be at her disposal. Is that sufficient," she overheard the king ask her uncle.

"Perfectly your majesty. How may we ever thank you?"

Henry raised his hand and shook his head in response. "Not at all. I must apologize for causing you distress by not returning sooner."

Kirsa nearly laughed aloud for the apologies and gratuity would continue if she didn't intervene.

"Uncle, are you leaving?" Kirsa feigned alarm at being left alone.

"My dear niece," he said as he moved toward the bed, "I must be getting along and replenish my stores of herbs. I need to be certain that you are completely well before we begin our journey home." He said this and placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder.

She detected the hint of a smirk upon his lips.

"What shall I do in your absence dear uncle?" She was well aware of her part in this. Even though it was taking a risk, she did wish to see some of the 15th century…yes…it wouldn't do her any harm either to spend more time with the magnanimous King. She was infatuated to say the least.

"Dearest Kirsa," the king interjected, "I can assure you that you are welcome to stay as long as you wish. Meanwhile, you must recuperate fully. I forbid you to lift a finger while you are in my care. I am most insistent and you will find that I frequently am obliged to my wishes."

The shy grin that she shot at him actually caused him to blush. Henry felt the warmth spread across his features. She was charming and to his elation quite enchanting lying there in his bed. He would pay his gratitude to the charwoman of his chambers later for placing her in the lovely gown she was wearing. Although he was appreciative of the gown he found her in due to its revealing nature, it was not practical to adorn in the elements. Perhaps soon, he could join her in his bed? He could still feel the kiss he gave her upon his horse earlier that morning. It lingered as a fragrant flower of spring.

Sounds of the door opening roused him from his inappropriate thoughts. It was her uncle preparing to take a turn in the market.

"By your leave sire, I am to market. Is there anything my niece desires," he asked looking at Kirsa.

"No thank you uncle," she responded.

"Until the evening then," he said and bowed as he began to walk out the door.

Kirsa felt she needed to do a bit more acting. It was a foregone conclusion that maids should not be alone with a man, certainly not in his bedroom and definitely not in a king's bed.

She made to get up and out of bed but then remembered she was inappropriately dressed.

"There is no need for you to leave Kirsa."

"Forgive me Henry. I have put you out long enough. I should move to different quarters. As you can see, I am quite well. I shall rest easy in another location."

Henry moved to set beside her upon the bed. He could not stop himself. He needed to touch her, and placing his hand to her face, he began caressing her cheek with his thumb.

Every touch from him set her skin aflame. Before she knew what she was doing, Kirsa reached up and pressed his hand to her cheek. Never losing eye contact, the gesture was meant as a thank you, but it apparently made quite the impression upon Henry.

Cupping her face with both of his hands and without thinking, Henry leaned forward and was about to kiss her when he held back if for only the briefest of moments, "Forgive me Kirsa, I must taste your lips once more."

Kirsa was breathless as she spoke, "No apology is necessary your majesty."

This was almost unbearable nearness; she could count the pores on his skin and trace the bow-curve of his upper lip.

She saw this coming long before it arrived, a soft warm pressure that beat lightly over her at first, then deepened as it sought her out. But she was not there to be found; in fear that she wasn't as innocent as he believed her to be, she had darted out of reach, leaving behind a still mask. After a moment he broke away, sat back and studied her with an appraising frown.

"Will you allow me to teach you how to kiss properly?"

A startled, involuntary laugh escaped her. "Henry, we are in your bed."

"No one need know, and the instruction can be applied anywhere." He went on before she could protest. "This is purely for instruction, you understand. First, you meet my eyes."

"What makes you stare like that? Drop your lids a little. That's better; now I don't feel as if I am at court on trial. Laughing is forbidden." He lay two fingers over her mouth to stifle the helpless mirth bubbling up. "You will soon see, this is serious."

"Now, open your lips – no; not more than a half-inch between them. Yes - that ridge of white just beneath the upper lip - fetching. Like a flash of lace. Now, this is important, to further entice, your lips should be - if you will excuse the expression - wet. They have to be wet."

He moved in suddenly and…licked them.

It was so impulsive and odd, but so like him that she could only blink in response, her heart felt claustrophobic in its small cavity.

Henry leaned away again, judging the effect. "Precisely. To resist, I would have to be mad." He then lightly tapped her head to the proper angle. " - and close your eyes. Close your eyes. You've drawn me, my sweet Kirsa, you don't have to watch . . . ."

She did not watch; she felt. Sensations…that was all she knew as his mouth closed over her lips and kept going, prizing them further apart. His tongue slipped to the roof of her mouth and hooked behind her upper teeth, catching her, drawing her slowly. Then, achingly slow, he pulled back, and caught her lower lip gently between his teeth.

"Did that meet your expectations?" His voice, low and breathy, shivered in the small space between them. She didn't answer but continued the movement he had started, leaning toward him until his heart was beating just under her ear. The sound moved her, in spite of all she didn't know: full to overflowing. The life that pounded there was as vulnerable as any man's.

Only a few thin layers of linen lay between them and it appeared that he was as affected by the kiss as she. His right hand was sliding with a small sweet hesitation up her back.

A warning went off in her head: stop him. Any minute, Exeter could walk in or the charwoman. To stop him, and to test her own will, she said, "Henry, we musn't," and placed her hand to his chest.

Sighing, Henry leaned back and smiled. "I am sorry Kirsa. I do not know what has come over me except that you have pierced my lonely heart."

Taking her hand, he turns it palm side up and plants a tender kiss upon it. The gesture leaves a tingle of desire that she cannot shake.

After his declaration, Kirsa swallows the lump that has formed in her throat and gazes into his fathomless blue eyes. She now feels as if she has made a tragic mistake.

_What have I done?_


	6. Chapter 6 - Late Night Liaisons

**You will recall that I am altering history (NOT canon compliant) here. Again, I am not following Shakespeare's text nor am I going to remain accurate about the Lancastrian Kings legacy. This is purely self-indulgence. I am happy that you are enjoying this tale. My hope is that you will continue to follow and review. Thanks! Big Texas hugs to all! ****J**

Chapter 6 – Late Night Liaisons

It would seem that sleep eludes those that are under stress and Kirsa was no exception to this common event. After Henry left her room to attend to matters of the state, she sat there in his bed, still flushed from his kisses, and agonizing over her predicament. When her uncle returned, she revealed bits of the scenario to him; but withheld some minor details.

To her astonishment, Quido was unmoved and seemingly mindful of all she relayed. She recalled what he told her: _"What did you expect? Kirsa my darling, how long have you longed to meet this man? How many years of research? You anguished over minute details about this century, his character, all of the what if's? It was going to happen. He WILL fall for you. How could he not?"_

_"__I'm your niece. You're biased."_

_"__I may be biased, but you are a charming and intelligent young woman that deserves to be treated as a queen. You are what he needs. Not a child that he cannot respect. Now stop brooding. It is not good for you. I promise that tomorrow, you will be in much better spirits. _

She tried to ask him more questions, but they were interrupted by the nurse. It was surreal. Here she is, lying in Henry Plantagenet's bed. A king of England! Five hundred years past! She should be frightened out of her mind, but her inquisitiveness always got the better of her. As a child, she would climb trees higher than anyone just to see if she could. In chemistry classes, she was the one that showed no fear at experiments that were volatile. Her brothers teased her relentlessly. She didn't cry in public, but she would go to her room and sob into her pillow at night. She was lonely. Guys were intimidated by her. They would say, _"You're too smart."_

Kirsa spent most of her time with her uncle in his lab or at the university lab. Other than that, she was in the library researching, always researching. The Plantagenets, England, Shakespeare, philosophy…and yes, time travel. It didn't leave much time for boyfriends or even friends. Her best friends Colleen and Heather certainly chided her, but they loved her. Heather was married to her first love, who Kirsa named "Farmer Tom", and they had their little girl Faye. Now Colleen and Magnus were married.

She smiled inwardly remembering the lovely wedding. They had such a great time and Colleen looked so beautiful. From day one, both Heather and Kirsa knew that Magnus was the one; a tall and handsome Swedish detective who literally swept Colleen off her feet. Heather catered the entire event. She didn't even get to taste the gorgeous cakes she baked. But in the midst of everything, Kirsa was looking forward to pairing up with the groomsman; an attractive man named Freddie. It wasn't meant to be for their time together was interrupted.

"Time," she whispered to the darkened room.

_"__I am sorry Kirsa. I do not know what has come over me except that you have pierced my lonely heart."_

Henry was the last person on her mind once her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo

Henry's POV:

I cannot deny the fact that this woman fascinates me. Not only has she stirred my senses, but she is brilliant; a multi-faceted gem that I desire to be intimately connected. I know that my actions will be frowned upon by the strict wishes of my family, but how can I ignore this lovely creature that sleeps within my chambers…slumbers upon my bed? Fragile yet keen, revealing wisdom beyond her years. She puzzles me so. Innocent she is, but interestingly enough…independent. I must learn more about her. Perhaps a ride to Eton…or would that be presumptuous? I do not wish to spy. However, if Exeter is correct in his assumptions, it could lead to disaster upon my throne.

No! I cannot believe someone as fair as she to be an infiltrator.

Could it be the Dauphin has sent her to Windsor? She does speak with a broken French tongue. Hence my examination of her language leads me to believe…I shall conquer this! What would my father say to this behavior? My men?

ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo

Henry walked silently down the drafty corridor. The wind was howling this evening. Stopping in front of his bed chambers, he placed his ear at the door. Listening, he heard only silence and the beating of his own heart. The heavy oak door would not allow him to hear within. As gently as he could, he released the latch and carefully slid the door open just enough to slip between the door itself and the jamb. Once he entered the room, he noticed the drop in temperature. It was no wonder, the window was open. She would for certain be unwell in the morning with the night air entering the chambers.

As quietly as he could, Henry made his way toward the window on the opposite side of the room, all the while looking over at the sleeping figure in his bed. He silently pulled the window closed immediately shutting out the wailing windstorm outside.

Turning back around, he stealthily moved to the bed, careful to avoid the parquet flooring he was aware would give him away. Halting directly beside the bed, he looked down upon his slumbering guest. Her cropped golden curls were splayed upon the pillow, a hand curled beside her face as if beckoning him, and lips slightly parted.

Careful not to rouse her, Henry seated himself quietly and gently upon the bed. He noticed one of the unruly golden locks lying across her eyes. Raising his hand, he gingerly brushed aside the ringlet causing her to stir slightly which caused him to smirk. Picking up a curl, he stroked it between his fingers. It was silky to the touch. He wished once again to bury his nose in it and smell the intoxicating scent of wildflowers and that hint of something he could not place.

"So easily I could have thee little cherry," he whispered almost inaudibly. It was as if he wanted her to awaken and catch him watching her sleep. His groin twitched at the thought of those shapely thighs wrapped around his waist and his mouth began to water at the sight of her voluptuous bosom rising and falling with each breath she took. He was confident that she could more than satisfy his basest carnal desires.

Her name was clearly a term of endearment, but at this juncture, Henry felt it was apropos. She, the virtuous maiden and he, the sword in need of a sheath.

Suddenly, Kirsa spoke, "Henry," it was a whisper.

She was calling him, but Henry observed that her eyes were still closed. He did not move. He could not move. Furthermore, he did not want to move. The hold she had over him was frightening. Never had any maiden stirred such an awakening within him.

Bending over her, he planted a soft kiss upon her forehead. He chose that particular spot as he was wary. If he had kissed those lips, he might not leave and instead would spend the rest of the evening claiming her innocence and ravaging her in his bed.

Kirsa stirred in her sleep and rolled onto her side. Henry stood and sighed while still watching her. "Sleep well dear one," he whispered and smiled. "Until the sun arises, I shall dream of you." And then turning, he quietly exited the room and returned to his temporary sleeping quarters.


End file.
